


Wings

by Starofwinter



Series: Sex and Candy [1]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe of an Alternate Universe, M/M, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:49:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: Loudmouth has been able to see them for as long as he can remember.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kristsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristsune/gifts).



> Rabble, Ruckus, and Mischief belong to [kristsune](www.kristsune.tumblr.com)

Loudmouth has been able to see them for as long as he can remember - he doesn’t think anybody else can, but he’s only asked a few times.  He learned the hard way that he shouldn’t bring up the fact that he can see the _wings_ that everyone else has.  

Everyone’s wings are different, and he thinks they’re all beautiful.  Fives and Echo’s wings are almost the same color, a soft blue, though Echo’s are a little darker and smaller - it’s sweet to see the way Fives’ flare out protectively anytime someone he doesn’t know talks to either of his partners, revealing the busy pattern of gray and white that’s usually hidden when they’re folded along his back.  Tup’s wings shine, and he’s never sure _what_ color they are, exactly, they shift with the light, looking different every time the light catches them.  They look softer than any of the others, and sometimes he has to stop himself from reaching out to touch them.

It’s a contrast, seeing Rabble, Ruckus, and Mischief.  Their colors are softer, more subdued, but no less beautiful.  They seem to instinctively stretch out toward each other whenever they’re close - and they almost always are.  Rabble’s are the darkest, the raven black absorbing the bright lights as he dances.  He likes the feeling of them when they brush his own, heavy and thick.  Mischief’s are pale brown and gray, the pattern almost dizzying when they’re all stretched out with his brothers’, but no less beautiful, and they set off the deep red-brown of Ruckus’ wings perfectly.  The three of them should clash, but they don’t, and it makes them even better for it.

Dogma’s wings are a pale, dusty rose, hints of cream and gray streaking through them beneath darker gray blotches.  He tends to keep them wrapped tight around his shoulders, except when Slick happens to show up at the club.  It’s always sweet to see how they relax, brushing against the iridescent blue-black of Slick’s.  They’re doing great together, and he loves to watch them as they dance around each other, even though he’s _pretty_ sure they’re already together.

Wolffe’s are a deep, matte gray, the color of a steel blade or stormclouds, and they always seem to be stretched out, ready to defend anyone who needs it.  They don’t catch the light at all, and half the time, they look like they could disappear into shadows if he holds them still.  They contrast against the shining gold and cream of Cody’s wings and the deep, shimmering sapphire blue of Rex’s. He wishes he could paint them sometimes, watching as they move around one another behind the bar, their wings brushing one another while they move.  It’s even more beautiful when Wolffe is standing between them, his wings wrapping around them in possession and comfort.

Jesse’s wings are like Wolffe’s, always flared out in protection of others.  They’re striped with white and black, almost like they’ve been traced in ink.  They almost perfectly match the white of Kix’s, though his are streaked with crimson and they flutter nervously when he isn’t in the middle of caring for one person or another in the clinic - or when they’re wrapped in Jesse’s wings, as they always are when Jesse has his arms around him.  He can’t help his smile when he watches them, and he has to hide it before anyone asks.

Seeing Anomaly’s wings makes something in his chest ache.  They were a bright silver once, that much he could tell from the few undamaged feathers still visible.  The rest, though… they’re singed and blackened, and he holds them like they’re broken, trailing behind him on the floor.  He only moves them when something goes wrong, and then they’re wrapped around tight him to defend himself.

He’s never really seen his own very well, glimpses caught in the mirror of emerald green shimmering around him, but he’s sketched them dozens of times, filling books with images of himself and his friends, their wings painted in every tone of the rainbow.  He might not be able to tell anyone about their wings, but he hopes he’ll be able to show them one day.


End file.
